Stone Barrington 27 - Doing Hard Time

into bed.
    “Did you go somewhere last night?” Emma asked.
    “Go somewhere?”
    “I woke up at some point and you weren’t in bed.”
    “I must have been in the bathroom,” he replied. “Or maybe you were dreaming.”
    •   •   •
    Majorov’s car arrived at the airport and was buzzed through the security gate. The Gulfstream was just being towed to a halt on the ramp. He waited until the airplane had been chocked and the door opened, then he showed the driver where to put his luggage. Finally, he took off his jacket, hung it up, and went to his usual seat.
    He reclined the seat halfway, put a pillow under his head, and closed his eyes. He needed to calm down.

Teddy arrived at Santa Monica Airport, was buzzed through the gate, and drove to the hangar. He stopped at a taxiway to check for traffic and saw Majorov’s Gulfstream being towed out of a nearby hangar. So the man was not hanging around the Bel-Air to speak to the police.
    He pulled into the hangar and closed the big door behind him. Tim was not at work yet, and Betsy would be upstairs. He had seen some things belonging to Livingston’s pilot, but where? In the flat? No, in the pilots’ lounge somewhere.
    He walked quickly back to the lounge carrying Vlad’s weapons case and looked around. Not in the closet where he had put the safe; in the other closet, maybe. He opened it and found a uniform jacket, a cap, and a laundry box on a shelf above them. He broke open the box and found a shirt. A moment later he was dressed as a corporate pilot.
    He hoisted Vlad’s case onto the table, opened it, removed one of the syringes from the bundle, filled it with potassium from the bottle, replaced the cap, and put it into an inside pocket near his holstered pistol. He put on the cap and his aviator sunglasses, left the hangar by the rear door, and walked toward the ramp. As he emerged from behind the hangar he saw a limo drive away from the Gulfstream and depart through the gate. He walked quickly toward the airplane.
    As he approached, a stewardess came out of Atlantic Aviation carrying a heavy bag of ice in one hand and a caddy filled with wine bottles in the other. He caught up with her. “Let me give you a hand,” he said, taking her burdens from her.
    “Thank you. I’ll go get the lunches—they weren’t quite ready.” She turned and walked back toward the FBO.
    Teddy walked quickly toward the Gulfstream and up the airstair. At the top he peeked into the airplane. Cockpit, empty, but in the rear of the cabin, stretched out in a reclining seat, was Majorov, his head on a pillow, a blanket covering his lap, his eyes closed.
    Teddy carefully set down the ice and the wine in the galley, stood very still for a moment, and watched the man for some sign of movement; he appeared to be sleeping, or trying to. Teddy reached into his inside pocket and retrieved the syringe, then began walking carefully down the aisle toward his quarry.
    As Teddy approached, Majorov heaved a deep sigh and resettled himself in the seat, then he opened his eyes and looked at Teddy.
    “Leave me,” he said. “I need sleep.”
    “Yes, sir,” Teddy said, and stood where he had stopped. He waited a full minute for Majorov to settle down, then he walked silently toward the man. When he reached his side, he uncapped the syringe, put it in his right hand, and with his left, pushed Majorov’s head firmly into the pillow and held it there while he sought the carotid artery. Majorov began to struggle, but Teddy held his head down as he slipped in the needle and pushed the plunger home. Then he released Majorov.
    The Russian sat up, rubbing his neck where the needle had gone in. “What have you done?” he demanded.
    “Just something to help you sleep,” Teddy said. “Compliments of Billy Burnett.”
    “You?” Majorov spat. “You are Burnett!”
    “For the moment,” Teddy said.
    The Russian suddenly convulsed and clawed at his chest. He seemed to be having trouble breathing.
    “There, there,” Teddy said, pushing Majorov back into his seat and buckling his seat belt. “Just a heart attack. You’ll be gone in a moment.”
    Majorov went limp, exhaling one last time. Teddy picked up a cocktail napkin and dabbed away a drop of blood that had escaped the needle prick, then he tucked the pillow under the man’s head, turned it to the right, and pulled the blanket up to his chin. He switched off the light over the seat, closed the shade on the window beside the dead